


A SCENARIO

by thoughtsdemise



Series: Adventure Day [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Prowler must take corrective measures, Suggestive, glasses on robots, library adventure day works, misbehaving Jazzy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Some spectacles on Prowl catch Jazz's interest.





	A SCENARIO

**Author's Note:**

> For confused-pupper-409 and a lovely nonnie.

Prowl pushes the magnifying lenses back up his nasal ridge as they slide forward again.  He huffs a vent of air, aggravated.  He knew he should go see Ratchet to have them adjusted to fit, but he saw no need to waste the doctor’s time for a minor annoyance.  And besides, he only ever used these when he had to fill out human paperwork from that one distributor who had yet to switch to anything remotely digital.  Prowl sighs and readjusts the lenses while wiggling his sensor panels to release the tension from his frame.  He leans closer to his desk and raises the special laser pen Perceptor had developed for him.  A choked off laugh draws his optics to the door, which he was fairly sure he had coded to lock.  Prowl’s optics narrow.

“Jazz.”

“Aw, Prowler-baby.  No need to be so cold.” Jazz steps into the office uninvited, locking the door behind him with his own codes.  He walks over to a hair and makes himself at home, kicking back and putting his peds on the edge of the desk.  It does not escape Prowl’s notice how clean and shiny Jazz is.  “So what’re you up to, baby?”

Prowl sits back, his sensor panels high and ridged.  He twirls the laser pen in his hand.  He lets the lenses slide down his nasal ridge so he can give Jazz the full brunt of his stare.  A corner of his mouth ticks up when he hears Jazz’s cooling fans kick on.  That being the case…Prowl lowers the vocal output tones a few levels and adds in a line of code to add harmonics that would strum just below the span of normal audible range.  “Jazz, you know the rules when my office door is locked.”  He subspaces the pen and folds his digits over each other, still gazing at Jazz over the edge of the magnifying lenses.

He watches with a smug little smile as Jazz looses his carefree smile and takes his peds off the edge of Prowl’s desk.  Though his frame language is now screaming caution, there is a definite up-tick in the speed of Jazz’s fans.  He was certainly interested in this current situation.  Prowl shifts his smile into a softer one as a reward for good behavior.  He even lowers his sensor panels in a sign of pleasure he knew Jazz would recognize.  ‘You’re not the only one who knows how to intel gather, lover,” Prowl purrs to himself.  He gathers the paperwork up into a file folder before subspacing it and leaving his desk top clear before turning back to Jazz.  “So tell me, Jazz, what should be your punishment for such _misbehavior_?”  Prowl lingers over the last word before rising and placing his palms flat on his desk to lean forward.  If Prowl was calculating the way Jazz had just shifted to rub his aft against the seat of the chair to release some rising charge correctly then this was playing out like one of those scenarios in Jazz’s romance novels he thought he had safely stashed behind a wall panel in their quarters.

Prowl hums before coming around to the front of his desk, sending an additional layer of locking codes to his office door and messaging Optimus that the meeting was going to have to be rescheduled do to an unexpected concern.  He stops when he stands near Jazz who had turned and tilted his helm to look up at Prowl.  Jazz’s frame language was still cautious in case Prowl decided he was not in the mood to play and ordered Jazz out.

Prowl lifts a hand to stroke his chin.  He watches Jazz through the magnifying lenses.  ‘Jazz is certainly being well behaved,’ Prowl hums to himself.  He leans forward and lays a hand on Jazz’s cheek.  He runs his palm gently over Jazz’s cheek and smiles as Jazz begins to purr and leans into his touch.  He slides a digit of his free hand along the lower edge of Jazz’s visor before lifting it.

“Well are you going to answer my query, lover?  Or do you need me to decide?”  He murmurs while leaning forward to place a kiss on Jazz’s nose, adding in a playful bite.  “Clear your schedule,” he orders and turns to hop on his desk.  “You’re going to be busy for at least the next two hours with your punishment.”

Prowl leans back and spreads his thighs, retracting his panels.  While he had yet to inflate his spike or begin to produce any lubricant, Prowl runs a had enticingly over the expanse of one white thigh.  “Glossa and lips only,” he sighs, “no digits or you will be sleeping alone for the next week.”  He grins devilishly at Jazz when he hears him whine.  “Who said I have to be fair.  You’re the one who broke the rules, _Jazzy_.”  Prowl lifts his hand from his thigh to remove the magnifying lenses.  He sucks a temple tip into his mouth, his glossa licking over it suggestively.  “So get to work, love.”

His engine tumbles in a pleased rumble when Jazz scoots the chair closer and grips his own knees.  Jazz’s optics watch Prowl’s glossa move over the piece of metal avidly before he turns to begin his “punishment”.


End file.
